


Clothes Make the Man

by Lynx22281



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx22281/pseuds/Lynx22281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clothes hold importance to newly fallen Castiel.  He and Dean start the road to forgiveness and healing now that the trials are over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothes Make the Man

He keeps the suit even though it was never technically his to begin with. The suit belonged to Jimmy Novak, who might as well have been recruited to the Men in Black since it was the last suit he ever wore. It's still a useful suit, even if he doesn’t wear it every day any more. Dean says it’s an acceptable Fed suit and will save them some money since they won’t have to buy one for Castiel; decent looking suits are hard to come by at the Goodwill and Army Navy store. It was tailor-made for Jimmy's body and still fits perfectly. 

 

The body wasn't technically his to begin with either, but now Jimmy's body is Castiel's only body. He can't pop in and out of it on a whim. He can't possess another vessel should something happen to this one. The only physical thing he can change whenever he wants is his clothes, but he keeps the suit. 

 

The suit has memories attached to it. It is tied to all of his successes and failures on Earth and in Heaven for the past several years – meeting Dean in corporeal form, stopping the apocalypse, betraying his friends, betraying his home, falling. But dozens of smaller, happier memories have threaded their way into the weave of the suit’s material – riding in the Impala with the Winchesters, laughing with Sam, sitting in comfortable silence with Dean, experiencing humanity first-hand not from afar. 

 

These are the memories that keep him from plunging all the way to the bottom of the very dark well of depression. These are the memories he goes to when he feels himself teetering over the edge. Sometimes he finds himself standing in front of the open door of his wardrobe, fondling the sleeve of the suit jacket between his thumb and forefinger for a few minutes trying to grab on to a good memory long enough to push away the bad one creeping up on him. On really bad days, he curls up in the middle of his bed for hours, clutching the trenchcoat to his chest like a security blanket reminding himself over and over again that Dean has always and will always have faith in him, even though he doesn’t deserve it. 

 

Charlie understands the importance of the suit even if the others don’t. She’s read all of the books and knows that there are 34 references to his suit and tie alone, not to mention the hundreds of references to his trenchcoat. One day she brings him a brand new garment bag. 

 

“Here,” she says happily thrusting it out to him. “This is for _The Suit_.” 

 

The way Charlie says it leaves no doubt that she’s saying it with capital letters, like a proper noun. 

 

Dean stands in the doorway of Castiel's room watching as the former angel and hacker carefully place the suit and trenchcoat in the bag. “He can just throw his stuff in the bag with mine on the next hunt." 

 

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Would you _just throw_ the Shroud of Turin in a bag with some guy’s second-hand, thrift store suit that has probably never been dry cleaned?” 

 

Castiel reverently zips the bag and walks over to the big, art deco designed armoire standing against the wall adjacent to the door to hang the bag up with his small collection pants and shirts. Since he spent the vast majority of the past few years wearing the suit, he has developed a preference for slacks and button down shirts over jeans and t-shirts. The fabrics are lighter and less restricting, and while they don’t alleviate the uncomfortable confinement of being in a human body, they certainly don’t add to it. He likes pastel colors better than the dark plaids worn by the Winchesters. Softer hues remind him of his favorite places in Heaven, the places where souls remember their happiest memories and the schemes of angels are far removed. Having choices and preferences in his clothing style is a novel concept he is just beginning to appreciate. 

 

Dean scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “The Shroud isn’t even real.” 

 

“Maybe not,” Charlie retorts as she crosses the room to him. “But some people think it’s important, and important things need to be cared for.” 

 

She narrows her eyes at Dean, making him shrink back from threshold of the room as she stalks past him into the hallway. Castiel stands in front of the open wardrobe, watching them from the corner of his eye. Charlie has been making pointed comments at Dean ever since Castiel returned to the bunker, and he suspects she may have been hounding the other man for longer than that. She is probably the foremost authority on the Winchester Gospels. He knows what she knows about his relationship with Dean and knows what she’s doing, though he isn’t completely sure he appreciates her efforts. For the time being Dean seems oblivious to her hints and nudges, and Castiel is ok with that. Their relationship is on rocky ground, yet again, and he fears the repercussions of what will happen when Dean finally understands. Charlie will just have to remain frustrated for the time being. 

 

Castiel remains at his closet, fiddling with the spacing of the hangers of his closet. He misses being able to blink and have his clothing instantly clean and pressed. He supposes that is the advantage to jeans and t-shirts, neither need to be ironed to look presentable. His clothes are already meticulously spaced, but Dean is still standing in the doorway watching him and Castiel’s trying to wait him out, to see if the other man will either say something or leave. He doesn’t want to make the first move. 

 

They haven’t spoken to each other more than a handful of words at a time since Castiel showed up at the bunker door a month ago, a few days after he fell. He had landed somewhere in Nebraska and had to make his way back to Lebanon on foot. Dean spent the first half-hour after Castiel’s arrival assessing the former angel’s new status and hearing his side of the story before returning his attention to Sam, who even now hasn’t completely recovered from the effects of the trials, and to plans for what to do about dozens of angels suddenly cut off from Heaven and walking the Earth. 

 

Castiel has made himself as useful and self-sufficient as possible. Whenever he discovers he needs something or needs to be shown how to do something, he goes to Charlie instead of Dean. He doesn't outright avoid Dean, but he gives the other man space. Dean had given him a spare change of clothes while his suit was at the cleaners, but Charlie was the one who finally took him shopping, armed with the list of clothing and personal necessities he made himself. He doesn’t cook, not ye, though he wants to learn; for now, he cleans up after every meal. He helps Kevin with the tablet. While he can’t translate the words directly - the Word was always far above his pay grade as a seraph - he can help Kevin decode the syntax of his translations. He helps Sam and Charlie while they work their electronic catalog of the Men of Letters library, fetching and carrying so Sam doesn't have to waste his slowly returning energy. 

 

Over a minute has passed and Castiel can no longer keep up the ruse of arranging the clothes in his wardrobe. He closes the door and turns to face Dean. They stare at each other, yet another one of those deep gazes that they’ve had numerous times since they first came face to face that night in the barn in Illinois. Castiel can’t see Dean’s soul in all its magnificent brightness anymore, but hints of that light are in the golden flecks of the righteous man’s green eyes. 

 

Dean inhales as though he’s about to say something before his shoulders sag on an exhale and he turns to leave the doorway, his thoughts remaining unvoiced for the time being. Something propels Castiel’s bare feet forward. He grabs hold of Dean’s forearm halting his progress. The hunter wears far fewer layers when he’s in the bunker; Castiel’s hand is warm against his bare skin. 

 

“Do you still need me?” Castiel asks. 

 

“What?” Confusion furrows Dean’s brow at the sudden question. “I don’t...oh...” Understanding washes over his face. His gaze flickers down to where Castiel’s palm is pressed against his arm, fingers gripping him lightly. He inhales deeply again, gathering his resolve before speaking, softer this time. “Yeah, Cas. I do. For all the wrong we’ve both done to each other, I just...I can’t let you go again. Even though your wings have been clipped and you can't fly away anymore, I'm still scared you're gonna leave me. I need to know you’re ok. I need you here. I...I need you.” 

 

Castiel moves closer a fraction of an inch, barely noticeable. “I need you too, Dean.” 

 

And he does. He needs Dean's presence to ground him in his new reality, to get him through the overwhelming mundaneness of being human. He needs Dean's approval and guidance. He needs Dean's love and affection in whatever way the other man is able to give to him. He has done so much for Dean, gone against the very fiber of his being for Dean. He needs to be in Dean's life and he needs Dean in his life. While he treasures the friendship he has with Sam, Charlie, and Kevin, he needs his profound bond with Dean the most. He needs Dean like his body needs air. 

 

Dean clasps a hand around the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug reminiscent of the one given when Dean finally found him in Purgatory, only this time Castiel wraps his arms around the hunter returning the embrace with equal fierceness, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to block out everything but the feeling of Dean's solid form wrapped around him. His involvement in the schemes of Heaven will never be forgotten, but in this hug he has received his absolution. 

 

They stay together, soaking up each other’s presence, finally glad to be in the same space together. The tension and walls built up over the last several months tumble down, leaving Castiel feeling raw and exposed, but in a good way, a cleansing way. He leans into Dean a few moments more, finding Dean's warmth addictive. Finally, Castiel pulls back. 

 

With a small smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, Dean gently presses his palm to Castiel’s stubbled jaw. Green eyes sweep over him as though this is the first time Dean has seen him in a very long time. The hunter smiles as he pats Castiel’s cheek before removing his hand. “You look good, Cas.” 

 

The former angel straightens his back with a gentle smile, preening slightly under Dean’s notice. He’s wearing his favorite pair of gray chinos and a blue-gray cambric tunic with a short stand-up collar. The shirt’s long-sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He wears a carnelian bead bracelet around his right wrist. Sam had found the bracelet in one of the Men of Letter’s storage rooms and gave it to him a week ago. 

 

“Thank you, Dean,” he replies, still smiling as Dean claps a hand to his shoulder and together they walk out to the library where Sam, Charlie, and Kevin are sprawled on the couch watching the scrolling introduction of _Star Wars Episode IV_. Charlie immediately grabs Kevin and shoves him into one of the arm chairs on either side of the leather couch before taking the other for herself, leaving the two couch cushions to Sam’s right as the only available seating for the newcomers. 

 

Castiel knows what Charlie is up to, but at the moment he doesn’t mind. With smirk in her direction, he takes a seat against the arm of the couch, giving Dean his usual spot right in the middle, sandwiched between his brother and Castiel. Charlie gives the couch arrangement a short nod of approval before turning her attention to her bowl of popcorn and the movie. 

 

New memories are starting to weave their way into Castiel new clothes. This will always be a good outfit, reminding him of the day he first watched _A New Hope_ , the day he was welcomed back into the rag-tag Winchester clan, the day he and Dean started over.

**Author's Note:**

> The outfit is the one worn by Future!Cas in 5.04 The End. I like to think it's his favorite outfit because he has good memories attached to it.


End file.
